The Correlation Coefficient Experiment
by AThingOfBeauty
Summary: How will Sheldon cope with Amy's proposed program of experiments to increase their familiarity? Following on from Season 6 finale. RATED M FOR BODILY FUNCTIONS / ADULT THEMES. DISCLAIMER: I do not own, nor profit from, any part of The Big Bang Theory, this is just for fun! Story now completed. Thank you for all your reviews!
1. CH 1 : FAMILIARITY ACCELERATION

The Correlation Coefficient Experiment

CHAPTER 1 : THE FAMILIARITY ACCELERATION PROGRAM

She sat too close, always too close. His arm prickled where it touched hers.

They sat on his couch facing the TV screen, blue light flickering across their faces as the movie reached its climax.

He'd not been paying much attention, he'd seen the movie before, but had chosen to keep this information to himself. Instead he'd used this time to reflect on recent events; to try to bring his thoughts to order.

Since Leonard's departure, she had become an almost permanent fixture in his apartment. They dined together, with friends and alone, and she'd drive over to take him to work if Penny was on evening shifts. She ferried him home most days, more often than Raj and Howard at any rate, and when she occasionally went out with the girls, much to his annoyance, he found himself missing her (surprisingly, more than he missed Leonard, even after 2 months absence).

Tonight was date night though, and her turn to choose their activity. She'd suggested a night in, watching a borrowed DVD with a Thai takeout for dinner. So, no need to dress in an uncomfortable suit and make pointless small talk; no need to negotiate an unfamiliar restaurant menu; no need to block his brain from calculating how many people had eaten off his cutlery before him. All so far, so good! It was the uncertainty of what was to come after that he found unsettling.

Since their first Dungeons and Dragons game, they had agreed an amendment to The Relationship Agreement. Amy clearly wanted more from the relationship and, although he was loath to admit it, the idea of physicality with her intrigued him. He was, at the very least, certain that there was no-one else whom he'd ever consider intimacy of that kind with. She ticked every box; she was, as Leonard once joked, a female of his species, equally brilliant and fascinating (or as close to his equal as it was possible to be). This realization drove his darker thoughts, plagued him in the small hours with the anxiety that some other man would notice Amy's unique allure, but would be able to provide the sexual element lacking. This imagined being became a shadowy figure in his consciousness; lurking just out of sight, ready to steal away with her. So, when Amy proposed a program of experiments to accelerate familiarity between them, he had briefly feigned disinterest, and then accepted the challenge.

The first experiment had been a simple handshake as they'd said goodnight. This he'd handled easily, it was certainly much preferable to the sweaty hand-holding she insisted on at the cinema, and he'd been buoyed by his success.

The second, a returned hug, was a little more difficult. He had always hated being touched and he'd counted the seconds till he could let go without offending her. She clutched him too tightly and he felt claustrophobic, crushed by the warmth of her body.

"Sheldon, you're as stiff as a board" she'd chided, "it's like hugging one of your ridiculous cardboard cut-outs".

He tried imagining he was hugging his Mother or Meemaw but it didn't help, she certainly wasn't the same as them. As he clutched her small body the unique smell of her hair, her skin, her breath, made his skin tingle and he felt a stirring in his stomach which, until recently he had found hard to place, but could now name.

This strange stirring, so unlike anything else. It took root at their very first meeting in the coffee shop. Something about the way she spoke and moved had provoked a tiny jump in the pit of his stomach, a shivery thrill that flushed through his body. This sensation, ubiquitous whenever they met or skyped, began small enough to be insignificant and easy to dismiss. It was not until he had bathed her that he could properly name it; lust!

Lust, alien to him for the majority of his life, now stealthily creeping in. He'd never pondered the significance of the snake in the garden of Eden, but now feeling the unfolding coils of the beast within, he finally understood the metaphor.

The next experiment had been a set back, a 'goodnight kiss on the cheek'.

Although he coped with his own part (he had had no trouble delivering the kiss to her), he had failed miserably to cope with her saliva residue on his cheek. He had tried to relax and not think about the festering wetness as it burned an imagined weld on his cheek, but the idea of millions of germs cavorting and multiplying on his face defeated him. He lasted for 30 disquieting minutes before he had to wash her kiss away.

He was angry at his failure and kept this secret from her, keen to move on, as she would revisit those experiments that she deemed unsuccessful. Indeed, the 'goodnight hug' was now a regular occurrence and seemed destined to remain so until he was able to relax in her embrace. Admittedly though, this was becoming easier. So either she was not so suffocating or he was simply becoming accustomed to this new intimacy; he preferred to think it was the latter.

With this in mind, he had approached her latest and most recent task, 'a goodnight kiss on the lips', with extra determination. He was confident of success; after all, she had kissed him twice before this way and he had coped. In fact, the idea to kiss her had briefly flitted across his mind during their very first Dungeons and Dragons game, only to be quickly dismissed. He was simply not ready for where it may lead, he found the game titillating and was not sure that he could cope with a kiss whilst in that state. He needed to be in full control of his faculties when that happened.

So, whilst it would have been an exaggeration to describe himself as comfortable with their first goodnight kiss, his fortitude paid off, and he coped admirably.

It was awkward due to the height difference to start with. They'd taken turns when they'd kissed each others cheeks, but this required better coordination.

At the end of the evening, she'd turned as she walked toward the door and put out her arms. He'd approached her rather sheepishly and, with as much grace as he could muster, placed his arms around her as for the hug. This had resulted in their standing together with her face and hands pressed against his chest.

"Okay, we need to rethink this!" She'd mumbled.

She'd stepped back, placed her hands on his waist and pointed her face towards him, whilst he'd rearranged his hands to rest on her shoulders.

"Ready?" She asked.

He'd nodded. She'd stood on tip-toe but still stopped short of his face, she closed her eyes and she waited. She waited a beat more, then opened one eye.

"Sheldon, you need to bend down to kiss me." She'd muttered.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and obliged. Their noses bumped together in a crunch of cartilage, and he opened one eye to find himself looking straight into hers. Startled, he retreated upwards and she dropped back onto her heels with a sigh.

His nose smarted and he rubbed it gingerly as she spoke, "Shall we try that again?"

He gave a small shrug. " Okay" he replied nonchalantly.

They fumbled back to their positions.

"This time, let's keep our eyes open till we're there" she suggested.

It was unsettling to stare into her eyes and bring his head closer to her. Every sinew in his being mutinied against it, he'd spent his whole life dodging relative's kisses, but her intense green eyes bored into him and willed him closer. She tilted her head to the side as he neared, making easier access to her mouth, and their lips met.

Her lips were soft, and reassuringly dry. He realized he'd been holding his breath and breathed out through his nose as he closed his eyes. Her scent was stronger up close as he breathed in again and he felt her lips pucker against his. He mimicked her actions and returned the kiss, keenly aware of the swell in his stomach as their mouths moved together. Before he knew it, she had pulled away from him and it was over. He opened his eyes to find her face still close to his, her expression impassive. Then she smiled and her eyes danced, and he beamed back, pleased to see his success reflected in them.

He had felt unsettled when she'd left that evening, not with the panic that had pervaded him after the cheek kiss, but with a twitchiness that moved him from task to task, unable to concentrate. At some point just before bedtime, his brain had begun to play tricks on him, began to imagine the germs breeding on his mouth, but he'd foxed it by licking his lips so there was no going back, no face washing this time. That night he had dreamed of her again.

The first time he had dreamed of her had been after he'd bathed her when she was pretending to be sick. He had woken hot, sticky and restless with abstract images of her soft, pale body fresh in his brain and an erection that refused to subside. He took himself to the shower at his allotted time and proceeded to deal with the problem.

His masturbatory habits had always been scheduled and organized, as with his other routines, and he was perturbed to have his rhythms out of synch. He was further disconcerted to find lewd visions of her entering his mind as he proceeded. Since puberty, he had scheduled masturbation into his timetable out of necessity, without it he became cranky and his sleep pattern was disrupted. He undertook it as blithely as his other ablutions and, before seeing Amy naked, had not attached any sexual component to it. Most often for it's duration his mind was blank, or he would visualize erupting volcanoes, sometimes fireworks, at the point of ejaculation. Nowadays he found he had to amend his timetable to once a week, and during the act, revisited the soapy washcloth as it glided over her milky skin, down towards the dimples of Venus in the small of her back.

Was it odd that he found her back so erotic? When she had removed her nightgown and stood naked to enter the bath she was so thoroughly exposed that he had found it unnerving to look at her. The slightness of her body had surprised him and made her appear strangely vulnerable. He was relieved that, though atomically correct, she bore no other resemblance to the women in the videos he had viewed online.

He shuddered whenever he recalled the Internet research he'd undertaken after Leonard and Penny had given him that revolting book. Seeking reassurance that the primitive acts depicted within would improve when animated, he'd been repelled by the crass, bestial rutting, and the participant's ugly, asinine grimaces. It was so removed from the reality of Amy as she stood before him that he was able to undertake his bathing duties in a composed manner, successfully blocking carnal thoughts from entering his mind.

Even so, he was careful not to dwell for too long on the front of her body, efficiently lifting her arms to wash beneath them and swiftly brushing the washcloth over her breasts and stomach. He avoided her genital area altogether (although relieved that the band-aids were gone, he was anxious that this experiment in touch not become exploitative) and instead focused on washing her back.

Her back seemed a safe place to relax his guard. He ran the cloth over the contours of her exposed neck, the blades of her shoulders and lower towards those curious dimples. The soft swell of her buttocks fascinated him but he avoided washing her below the water level, this opportunity to push his barriers should not impose on her, especially as she was unwell. He noticed that when his hand slipped over the cloth and touched her skin directly, she gave a small shiver, and a little guilt crept in. Was it right to take advantage of her illness to test his own boundaries?

When he received her pathology the next day, he was enraged! He had been hoodwinked! Amy's own agenda had outwitted his, and in doing so effectively made him a slave to his baser needs, something he had avoided for over 30 years! Hadn't he always pitied poor, enslaved Leonard, entrapped by his own libido? Now he, Sheldon Cooper, was no better!

Somehow he had stopped himself calling to rage down the phone at her. Instead he'd deliberated on punishments befitting her crime. None seemed adequate till the spanking came to mind. He liked the finality of it; it restored balance and was something they could move on from without bitterness on his part. A murkier part of him thrilled at the opportunity to touch her where he'd denied himself the day before, but he shut these thoughts out and determined that the chastisement would be meted out in the same collected manner as his previous experimentation. He was confident that, with the injustice righted, they could return to the usual status quo.

So, he was rather disconcerted when his second erotic dream occurred. Inspired by the sensation of Amy's mouth against his, it pooled memories of the feel of her fleshy rump during the spanking with an imagined physical enactment of their latest Dungeons and Dragon's role-play. This time there was no need to deal with the aftermath of the dream in the shower as he had involuntarily ejaculated in his pajamas and awoke in a cold, wet puddle of semen. He'd not had to deal with this since adolescence, and even then it had been a rare occurrence, disconnected to any obvious sexual stimuli, and the impetus for the masturbation schedule that had, until recently, served it's purpose.

Inevitably, in light of these recent experiences, he had to accept that she had gotten under his skin and undertake this journey with her.

The credits of the movie rolled on the screen and she reached forward for the remote. The room had grown dark throughout the movie's duration and, when she switched to standby, they were immersed in semi-darkness. He remained seated at her side, his arm cooling where it had lost contact with hers. What next? He wondered.


	2. CH 2 : THE INDISCERNIBLE DEVIL OVERRIDE

The Correlation Coefficient Experiment

CHAPTER 2 : THE INDISCERNIBLE DEVIL OVERRIDE

**_The credits of the movie rolled on the screen and she reached forward for the remote. The room had grown dark through the movie's duration and, when she switched to standby, they were immersed in semi-darkness. He remained seated at her side, his arm cooling where it had lost contact with hers. What next? He wondered. _**

She seemed a little hunched over, then she rubbed her face with the base of her palms and he suddenly had a flash of memory; of Leonard blubbering like a baby at the end of this same film! He tentatively reached for her shoulder and touched it, she turned, her face tear-stained.

"Do you need a tissue?" He didn't wait for her response but reached next to him and proffered the faux Rubik's Cube.

"Thanks" She pulled two from the box and sat back, dabbing her eyes. He put the tissues precisely back in place.

Tea, that was what was needed! Yet something else nagged at him, something she'd previously mentioned that was appropriate in these social situations. He pondered, and then, "Amy, would you like a consoling hug?" He surprised himself with the words.

She stopped dabbing, and her eyes widened as she looked at him. "Yes, that would be nice, thank you Sheldon."

He leaned back so they were level and proceeded to feed his arm round the back of her neck, she leaned forward a little to help, then rested her head against his chest. The tissues were screwed into a ball in her fist and this she rested on his thigh.

This is okay, he told himself. Like the goodnight hug, but sitting down, no problem. Kudos to himself for suggesting it too! He wondered if this self-initiated intimacy would replace the kiss tonight. He didn't know if he wanted that or not. Like the hug, it got easier for him each time and he was encouraged by his progress. However, progression led to places unknown. He felt a little chill start in his stomach.

At the programs onset, they had negotiated up to, but not beyond, this kissing stage, and he was panicky about what she would propose as the next step.

As the chill traveled up to his chest, the anxiety about the tissues in her hand, now blistering hot and heavy on his thigh, rose. His arm began to bristle from the heat of her shoulders. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried to suppress his angst. She put her other hand up and entwined her fingers through his. Hand-holding! Not this again!

"Tea?" He jumped up so suddenly that she toppled slightly onto his spot; the tissues touched his cushion making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Oh" she seemed a little taken aback, "Peppermint, please."

He flicked the light-switch for the kitchen then busied himself filling the kettle. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed with some relief that she had thrown the tissues in the waste-paper bin. He felt his anxiety level drop a notch. She joined him at the sink to wash her hands and the dread in his chest dulled back down to the mild uneasiness that had dogged him all evening.

"Did you enjoy the film?" she asked, leaning against the counter while the kettle clicked and fizzed.

"Yes" he lied, he'd actually thought it was pretty stupid the first time he'd sat through it, "It seemed to upset you?"

"It was sad" she nodded, then after a moments reflection, "but kind of beautiful too".

"It was" he nodded in agreement and gave a sad kind of smile he'd been practicing, he was really getting rather good at this social etiquette thing, "would you like to discuss the film further?"

She cocked her head to the side, considered a while, then replied, "no."

She watched without further comment as he made the tea, then, rather than sit up at the counter as they usually did, took her mug back to the sofa. She sat in the middle and patted his spot.

He was rather surprised, but joined her nonetheless. He had suspected that there were matters that they needed to talk about, but was confused; all previous discussions had taken place at the counter. He must have looked perplexed, hence her explanation; "Sheldon, I thought we could discuss the program tonight. I wondered if it would help if you were in your spot, it's where you seem most at peace?"

This didn't sound good. Why did he need to be in his spot? What the hell was she going to propose? However, he reined his fear back, this was after all, just the negotiation process. He sipped his tea, placed it on the coffee table coaster and turned his body to face her, "Okay, what's on your mind?"

"I think we've made excellent progress, especially considering the time-frame" she placed her tea on the coaster next to his and paused in thought. "I have been considering an experiment this week but, with your hug tonight, it's made me wonder if you would like to suggest something instead?"

She met his eyes and they sat in silence. He found it unnerving when she looked at him like this. It was as if she could see inside him, read his mind. He felt a squirming in his stomach and was unable to think, his mind blank until 'I'd like to smack your bare backside' suddenly popped into it. Where the hell did that come from?! Just lately he'd begun imagining a mini-devil on his shoulder, whispering crude thoughts into his head like he was some corny cartoon character.

He shook the thought away and answered, "I've got nothing. What do you have?"

"Nothing too scary", she placed her hand on top of his in reassurance. "Just a little re-hash of what we already do really."

This sounded promising; he found he could breathe a little easier. He nodded for her to continue.

"I thought that maybe we could role-play, like Dungeons and Dragons, but as ourselves, as Sheldon and Amy, not an orc or elf." She gave an encouraging smile.

"No physical touch?" he questioned.

"None" she agreed. "Same rules."

"With the dice and board?" he queried hopefully.

"No, no dice and board this time I think" she shook her head and his heart sunk a little. She noticed and patted his hand.

"It won't be fun without the game!" he whined.

"Can just we try it?" she gave his hand a little squeeze. He met her eyes again briefly.

"Oh, okay!" he shook her hand away grumpily.

"Also" she continued. There's an 'also' he thought! As if he hadn't yielded enough! "I thought that our goodnight kiss tonight could be done here, on the sofa."

"Why?" he was feeling slightly petulant now.

"I want to see if being in your spot makes a difference, if it helps you relax" she shrugged. "It's just a slight variation really, no big deal."

"Closed mouth?" he checked

"Yes" she confirmed. "Same rules."

He wanted to say no just to be difficult; she was definitely being pushy. However, on deliberation, the idea had merit. The height difference did cause problems and he'd developed a crick in his neck this last week that he solely attributed to it. He'd had to conceal his pain through fear that she'd offer him a massage. He wasn't ready to be touched, not yet, he needed to be in control of the disturbing urges that kept threatening to overtake him before that could happen.

"Fine!" he conceded grumpily. He rose and took his tea over to his laptop. He flipped the lid, The Relationship Agreement was already open in anticipation, and he added the two addendums quickly, adapting the previous Dungeon & Dragons and Kiss clauses in no time.

Amy picked the documents from the printer, examined, then signed them, and handed them back. She drained her tea as Sheldon countersigned, then waited with her hand out for his empty mug, forcing him to gulp his down. He shot her an irritated glare, which she either ignored, or was oblivious to, as she placed the mugs in the dishwasher. Then she returned to the sofa and waited, neatly seated with her hands on her knees.

He shut down his laptop, filed the two pages in the back of the file in his top drawer then pushed his chair back. He couldn't think of any non-obvious delay tactics, but desperately needed to buy some time. Although relieved that her proposals were not as extreme as he had feared, he really had no idea how to express his sexuality without a character to hide behind. How could he expose himself without ridicule? He was certain that the thoughts that dwelt in the shadowy parts of his brain were not conventional. Who found something as disgusting as vapor-rub arousing? He certainly hadn't before he'd rubbed it on her, but recently had had to move it to the back of the bathroom cabinet to avoid the temptation to sniff it. He could hear a little patting sound as she tapped out a rhythm on her knees whilst not-so-patiently waiting, he got up; it was only a matter of time before she began humming.

He took his position in his spot, then turned to face her. "Did you want to catch CSI Miami, it's just started," he enquired optimistically. She shook her head. There was a rather uncomfortable pause.

"Shall we do the role-play then?" he capitulated.

"Why don't you start?" she suggested.

He took a steadying breath, and then began.

"Okay. I, Sheldon Cooper" he touched his chest, "kiss you, Amy Farrah Fowler, on the" he mused for a moment, "lips."

"I kiss you back Sheldon, also on the lips."

"Okay. Amy, I pull you close to me and wrap my arms around you."

"Sheldon, I run my hands up your back and nuzzle your neck."

He felt a small twist in his stomach, he ignored it.

"Amy, I also run my hands down your back and I nuzzle your neck, I can smell your hair."

The twist turned into a coil, he felt a little swell in his chest, a dryness beginning in this throat.

"I stroke the hair at the back of your neck Sheldon, and I gently kiss from your jaw to your mouth."

His heart was starting to pump faster now and the stirring in his stomach became more urgent.

"I kiss you back Amy, and I run my fingers through your hair and stroke your neck."

He realized he was on dangerous ground now; the serpent in his belly began unraveling.

"I kiss you harder, and I press my breasts into your chest, my nipples are hard!" Her voice had dropped a few tones and she sounded rather breathless.

That one hit the spot! The twisting sensation moved from his stomach to his groin. He looked warily at Amy, carefully considering his next move. She had a curious expression on her face that he couldn't quite place. He had long since realized that he was inept at deciphering facial expressions and, to rectify this, had memorized the sheet given to him when his mother had had him tested. It contained common facial expressions, but none of them exactly matched Amy's. She sort of looked hungry, but that made no sense, they'd just eaten Thai food!

"I place my hands on your breasts and gently squeeze them." He thought of the washcloth skimming her breasts, a brief memory of their weight and softness. There was a dangerous tugging in his groin and he was grateful that serendipity had had their date night fall on the day he wore his baggiest trousers.

"I tug your t-shirts up your back and take them off over your head. I run my hands down your chest to your stomach." She continued. She swallowed and her unblinking, intense stare bore into him.

"I" he began, "I", he just couldn't focus. Why was this so difficult? Was it due to the lack of blood supply to his brain? How could he be so befuddled now when their Dungeons and Dragon's role-play always ended in coitus? Last week Amy's orc had performed a rather explicit and unhygienic act on his elf, but that still hadn't left him tongue-tied. He resolved that, as he'd always been prone to literalism, the removal of his avatar had left him no sanctuary, no shield to deflect his passion. That was why he was so inarticulate and disorientated.

"I, I, I can't do this Amy!" He exclaimed.

She took a deep breath. "That's fine." She said, but her face did not match her words.

"I'm sorry!" He apologized. "I need more time, I'm not prepared, I…" He trailed off into a discomfited silence, refusing to meet her eye.

"Sheldon, it's alright." She comforted. "It's only the first time we've done this. It'll get easier, just like the other experiments have."

She sighed, "beside that, it's late and there's things I need to do before bed, I should be going."

There was something he needed to do before bed too, he looked down at the front of his trousers to check that they hadn't given up his secret, and then had an epiphany, was she talking about the same thing? The thought gave him a sudden thrill that made his body thrum.

"Do you still want to try the Goodnight Kiss here, in your spot?" She asked reaching for his arm.

His brain screamed 'NO!' but before he could speak, her electric touch sent a shiver of such pleasure through his body that his stomach flipped. His indiscernible devil raised his trident and smote his flesh ferociously, propelling him toward her with such velocity that she was knocked backward onto the sofa. He tumbled with her, entwined in an embrace so fierce that the clack of their teeth reverberated in his head as she writhed beneath him.


	3. CH 3 : EXPOSED DENTINE

The Correlation Coefficient Experiment

CHAPTER 3 : EXPOSED DENTINE

_**His brain screamed 'NO!' but before he could speak, her electric touch sent a shiver of such pleasure through his body that his stomach flipped. His indiscernible devil raised his trident and smote his flesh ferociously, propelling him toward her with such velocity that she was knocked backward onto the sofa. He tumbled with her, entwined in an embrace so fierce that the clack of their teeth reverberated in his head as she writhed beneath him.**_

Her mouth responded urgently to his while her hands traversed his back, his muscles convulsing as she progressed. She aligned their bodies and, spreading her hands over his buttocks, drew him down to her. His erection rubbed up against her, negating his earlier attempts at concealment, and sending a wave of such exquisite pleasure up his spine that a choked moan escaped him. In response, her kiss became more fevered and their teeth clashed again. He felt lightheaded, swimming in sensation, drowning in her. She tasted of Pad Thai, Peppermint tea and something unknown, something that was simply her; and he was intoxicated. She crushed her pelvis into him and he began to lose himself in the sublime agony. He pushed back, clasping her shoulders, relinquishing control. Their kiss became wet and fervent, and then there was a tongue! There was definitely a tongue! There was a tongue in his mouth!

He sprung back as if struck by lightening and sat bolt upright! His penis chafed uncomfortably against his zip, like some caged, feral beast trying to break free from his trousers. He looked down at her, he was panting slightly, as was she. She looked thoroughly disheveled, her glasses askew on her face and her hair a tousled mess as she propped herself up on her elbows to face him.

"I'm sorry!" She gasped as she straightened her glasses, immediately realizing her error.

He gripped the back of the sofa, trying to regain his composure. Failing miserably, he was only able to breathlessly mutter, "Closed mouth Amy, closed mouth!"

"Sheldon, I'm sorry!" She repeated. She pushed herself into a sitting position, attempting to pull down her skirt, which had become rather rucked up in their tussle. "Sometimes these things just happen, you can't account for them!"

"You can't account for them!?" he repeated incredulously. "How so, Amy, please expound on your theory further?" He sniped sarcastically as he grabbed at the tissues, plucking them from the box in a panic and wiping his face in a frenzy.

Amy gave him a sobering look before beginning.

"Well Sheldon, as virgins, we're both variables. We can speculate on the cause and effect of certain stimuli to our endocrine systems but, without actual exposure, it's mere supposition. Experimentation is the only way to provide a definitive answer. You cannot determine our correlation coefficient by conjecture alone and frankly, if your objective was to avoid having my tongue in your mouth, then you shouldn't have launched yourself at me quite so ardently!"

To which he had no answer. He looked down and tugged at the front of his pants, moving the zipper out of the way, this thing was not going down in a hurry.

Her voice softened, "I can help you with that, if you want?" He shook his head dejectedly.

"Sheldon, we're in the same boat here. My predicament may not be quite so obvious as yours," she stared purposefully at his crotch, "but trust me, it's just as pressing."

"I don't understand." he replied, a little confused.

She gave a small sigh. "Right now Sheldon, I think I'm the most aroused that I've ever been in my life." She confessed. She bowed her head, "I could scream with frustration! Or explode! Or both!"

He felt a smug little glow. "You're not seeking closure are you Amy?" He couldn't keep the smirk out of his voice.

She remained somber. "Yes. I am. Trust me, I'm in turmoil! You could help me Sheldon. Will you?"

At that, the smugness evaporated and the earlier chill began to creep back.

"How?" He enquired uneasily. "What would be required of me? Be specific!" He began to shred the tissues in his hand apprehensively.

"To be honest, if I describe it, I think it'll sound worse than it is. Can I show you instead?" She stole a quick glance at him, and blushed puce. "You've touched me before, not so intimately admittedly, but you just have to say and we'll stop, I won't touch you, not if you don't want me to."

He turned, threw the tissues into the waste-paper bin and faced away from her as he mulled it over, his major instinct told him a resounding 'NO'. However, there was a part of him that was willing; the same part that had driven him back to her door that fateful night when she'd caught flu, its will strong enough to supplant his fear of contagion to achieve his goal.

He'd failed both challenges miserably tonight; he'd lost control. He hated failure and needed to save face. He considered his own arousal, indecently poking upward like some obscene missile, primed and ready for action. Was Amy suffering the same throbbing discomfort, the same need for release that was aching in his loins? If so, it would be ungentlemanly not to oblige her.

"I say stop, and we stop! There's no debate!" He reaffirmed.

She solemnly nodded her concurrence.

"Show me then." He agreed with some trepidation.

She stood up and faced him, nervously twiddling with her hair for a moment while she worked out a strategy.

"Lie down on the couch, and leave enough room for me to lay beside you." She instructed.

She removed her cardigan, folded it neatly and placed it on the coffee table before resting her glasses safely atop. Then she loosened the top two buttons of her blouse and kicked off her shoes, storing them neatly next to the couch.

He removed his shoes, and placed them tidily next to hers. There was something strangely intimate about the two pairs of shoes sitting beside each another, one pair big, one small, that gave him little jolt of emotion, a odd feeling of affection for these inanimate objects that he was unable to fathom.

He lay down as she had asked, his head resting on the arm of his spot. He swallowed, his throat felt very dry ,and his heart hammered against his chest in suspense. She joined him, and he found he had to lie on his side to accommodate her. They shuffled about clumsily until she lay with her head on his arm, her face close to his. He tried to point his groin away to prevent himself digging into her side, but there was very little room and he wasn't completely successful.

They lay still for a while, becoming accustomed to this closeness. The smell of her hair served as a reminder of their clinch, and he avowed to remain impassive throughout this venture, regardless of how it tantalizing he found it. His mind wandered to his laptop and the agreement it contained. This, whatever it turned out to be, wasn't sanctioned. But how could it be endorsed when she was too embarrassed to specify exactly what was required of him?

She was making no attempt to remove any more of her clothing; she simply pulled her skirt up above her thighs so he could see her legs, shapely in their thick green tights, as she had done when she showed him her bikini wax in her car. He was starting to feel agitated and impatient when she took his hand gently in hers.

She guided him over her skirt and his hand rested on a soft mound. From his reclining position he could not see what he was touching, but he felt her pull down the banding of her tights and the material beneath his fingers changed from fuzzy to silky. The distinctive snap of knicker elastic heralded the next change and he was touching flesh, warm and yielding. She slid his hand further down into her hair (which surprised him with its softness), then further still till his fingers slipped into hot, wetness, and she gave a quiet gasp. His felt his own body twitching and tightening in response. He closed his eyes and employed Kolinahr to block the sensation. She let his hand rest there a moment, as they both became accustomed to this new sensation (he envisioned his fingers in her mouth instead which helped dampen his arousal a little). He could hear the blood pulsing in his ears as he rested his head next to hers, their burning cheeks touching.

With her hand atop his, she spread his index and middle finger apart, allowing a small protuberance of slippery flesh between them. She pressed down with a gentle force, before guiding him to move in a circular motion. A sharp intake of breath and a muffled groan left her, and she began to quicken the pace. She started to squirm against him, then removed her hand from his, clutching at his t-shirt. He stilled his hand and opened his eyes. Was that it? Was it over?

She gripped his arm at the wrist and breathlessly whispered, "Keep going!"

He obeyed and resumed the gyratory rubbing, his hand aching a little with the effort and watched fascinated as her body jerked with little convulsions. She dug her heels into the sofa, her stockinged feet at odd angles, whilst her hand twitched at her side, her fist clenching and unclenching whilst the other continued to grasp the front of his t-shirt as she made soft groaning noises. He noticed that, under her shirt, she was starting to flush red across her chest and her hips had just started to rhythmically rise and fall when he had the startling realization that his body was synchronizing with hers. The pulsation in his groin told him he was frighteningly close to ejaculation. It was too late for Kolinahr now and in desperation he closed his eyes and thought of all things unpleasant.

He thought of Leonard's socks, Penny's God-awful singing, Raj's greasy little dog and Howard; Howard as a sum total. Behind his thoughts he could hear muffled exasperations. He blocked the sounds, and was contemplating the lunacy of uniting Quantum Loop Theory with String Theory when he felt her hand on his.

"Stop, stop, stop!" She panted, giggling a little as she twitched with small spasms. She tugged his hand up to rest on her stomach then flopped next to him. He could feel her heart thumping as her breath came cracked and broken, then she turned and snuggled her face into his chest, heat radiating from her as her rib cage undulated.

He flexed his aching hand behind her back, and puzzled over the many conversations regarding the mysteries of the female orgasm he'd been privy to over the years. They made no sense whatsoever. He couldn't see how Leonard, Howard and Raj could get it wrong, he'd had more trouble installing his latest media player. Perhaps, this was just another area in which he excelled. He rubbed his thumb against his two fingers, wondering at their slickness and a sudden urge to place them in his mouth, to taste her, shocked him. She really needed to go home now; he had to take care of his own problem before it got him into trouble.

He broke away from her and attempted to sit up. She took his cue and rose, and they performed an ungainly choreography of limbs as they rearranged themselves on the sofa. She adjusted her tights and put on her glasses back on, looking flustered but so ridiculously happy, that he had no clue how he could ask her to leave without upsetting her. He desperately needed to wash his hands and shower; and he really, really needed to masturbate. He reached again for the tissues, cocooning his two fingers, quarantining them from tainting the rest of his hand, and pulled his t-shirt down over his bulging trousers.

There was an awkward silence as they both faced each other, "Thank you for that." She blushed as she bobbed her head.

He had no reply other than a gracious "You're welcome."

The awkwardness intensified and he was just about to politely broach the subject of her leaving when she interrupted his thoughts.

"Sheldon, I would like to propose something. Can I ask you to keep an open mind?"

What now? His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. He'd been on an emotional roller coaster tonight and he was exhausted. He looked at the floor and shook his head but she continued none-the-less.

"You seem to approach our experiments with such pessimism and fear that I wonder at the amount of time you spend dreading what's coming next. The anxiety must be very draining Sheldon. It must interfere with your life on every level." She paused for effect before continuing. "You're extraordinary and brilliant and it seems a tragic waste of your talents."

She pushed her hair back, tucking one side behind her ear. "Our ultimate aim is sexual intercourse is it not?" She posed.

He didn't reply but remained looking down.

She continued, unabated by his silence. "Well, I'm here, and I'm willing. You are clearly able. Why don't we just get this over and done with and you can go back to concentrating on the important things in life instead of expending all your energy in pointless worry? I understand your touch aversion, but surely coitus would be an example of you touching me, and you do seem able to do that, tonight being a case in point."

She reached down beside her and rooted around briefly in her handbag. "I have two words to supplement my argument," she drew out a packet of condoms and placed them on the coffee table next to her cardigan, "Exposed dentine!"

Exposed dentine?!

Shortly after Leonard's departure he had developed an agonizing toothache. He had recently had his six-month check-up, which he had diligently attended out of routine and protocol, and was loath to return. His Dentophobia was extreme, so he tolerated the pain, wondering if he could take it for the next 6-months. He couldn't eat on one side of his mouth and he couldn't sleep for the agony; he lay awake at night, imagining an abscess spreading into his brain.

He was fatigued and underweight when Amy finally took command, made an appointment, and dragged him to the dentist, visions of fillings and extractions making him nauseous with panic.

In the chair he clung onto to her hand, clamped his eyes shut and tried not to gag as the dentist worked in his mouth, the revolting taste of latex assaulting his senses.

Then came the dentist's voice, "We're all done here Dr Cooper" and he wondered if he had fainted for a while. Nothing bar a check-up, had been done. No drilling. No tooth pulling. "You had exposed dentine, I've applied a topical glass-ionomer cement, it shouldn't give you any more problems."

He considered her allegory and had a sudden moment of clarity. He thought of the histrionics he'd witnessed from the women in his online research, coupled with Penny's rodeo caterwauling, and compared them to the simplicity of Amy's muted response. He felt calm for the first time in months.

He looked up and faced her.

He smiled and nodded as he congratulated her, "Well played Amy Farrah Fowler!"

Her hand shot up and wavered at her mouth in disbelief, "Are you saying yes Sheldon?"

"I am." He confirmed as he reached for the condoms.


	4. CH 4 : THE HYMEN RESISTANCE CONUNDRUM

The Correlation Coefficient Experiment

CHAPTER 4 : THE HYMEN RESISTANCE CONUNDRUM

_**He looked up and faced her. **_

_**He smiled and nodded as he congratulated her, "Well played Amy Farrah Fowler!"**_

_**Her hand shot up and wavered at her mouth in disbelief, "Are you saying yes Sheldon?"**_

"_**I am." He confirmed as he reached for the condoms.**_

He turned the packet over, briefly reading the back before stripping off the polythene outer and placing it in the wastepaper bin.

Amy remained rooted to the spot, her eyes wide as she stared at him, fixated. He removed one of the foil packets and twiddled it around in his hand, examining it, lost in thought for a moment.

He felt her gaze upon him and posed the question that he'd been turning over in his mind.

"Amy, are you happy to proceed here, on the sofa? There's no linen on Leonard's bed and I only changed my sheets yesterday." He looked up, "I don't want to get them sticky." He offered as explanation.

She blinked and seemed to come back to life a fraction. She nodded her agreement looking rather dazed, before questioning in a surprised tone, "You're not concerned that the sofa will get sticky?"

"I thought we could use your cardigan as a barrier." he smiled in reply.

"Oh did you?" She knitted her brows.

Sarcasm, he decided. He ignored it and continued in a matter of fact way. "You'll need to remove your tights and underwear at least, perhaps your skirt too?"

He waited expectantly.

She sat stock still, staring at him, a bemused look on her face. He checked his watch.

"Amy, I need to be up for work in 9 hours. Penny won't be impressed if I make her late for her shift tomorrow!" He stared at her purposefully, willing her to get a move on.

Finally she stood and bent to pick up her cardigan in a rather robotic fashion before draping it across the cushion beside him. Her hand lingered briefly on the buttons of her shirt, but she seemingly changed her mind and started to unfasten her skirt at the waist instead. She unzipped it, stepped out from it and then folded and placed it on the table where her cardigan had been a moment before. Her hands appeared to be a little shaky. She pulled her tights down past her hips before sitting to slide them off her legs. There was a brief flash of red underwear.

He felt a squirm of excitement at the sight of her pale, soft legs. He watched attentively as she placed her tights next to her skirt and then proceeded to slip her underwear off. He realized he'd been holding his breath when she placed them on the table. They were minuscule, constructed of silk and flimsy lace, and possibly the most unpractical undergarment he'd ever seen; they must offer no support at all! He shook his head at Penny's influence, what was Amy thinking? Finally, she removed her glasses and stored those safely on her skirt.

She twisted in her seat, "Do you want me to help you put that on?" She asked nodding at the condom in his hand, her voice sounded higher than usual, jumpy even.

He shook his head, "No, I think I've got this" he replied.

She remained staring at him and he felt suddenly shy.

He turned his back to her and proceeded to undo his trousers, he was careful to loosen them just enough, he didn't want any part of himself exposed unnecessarily. He pulled his underpants down and away and the relief in his unfettered genitals was immense. He sighed, and began to negotiate the condom foil, which was made difficult by the tissue binding his two fingers and his reluctance to employ his thumb on that hand due to earlier contamination. After much fumbling, he removed the condom and placed it atop his penis. He threw the wrapper and the tissues in the wastepaper bin (making a mental note that he really needed to empty that before Penny came in the morning; the foil being the incriminating evidence on top of a suspicious amount of tissues). Using his tainted thumb and forefinger to pinch the top, he rolled the condom down. His penis looked distorted and ridiculous, like it was on its way to rob a bank! Worse than that, it stopped halfway down.

"Amy, you bought the wrong size!" He exclaimed, becoming agitated.

"What! Show me!" Before he could hide himself, she'd leaned around him and peeked down. There was a flash of emotion, quickly masked. He filed away the memory of her raised brows and open mouth to compare to his chart later, her expression had been hidden too suddenly to make a definite match without study.

She turned and reached for the condom packet, removing the instruction sheet and folding it out to show him.

Her voice sounded a little tremulous. "It's fine, look," she indicated to the diagram, "it's meant to be like that."

"How will it protect from infection?" He felt his calm demeanor slipping away.

She took a steadying breath, before continuing with a controlled "Sheldon, you have my monthly blood pathology in your desk drawer. This month, like every previous month, I have no communicable diseases!" Was he imagining a hint of irritation in her voice?

He started to retort "But that was taken last Monday, you may have come into contact..."

"Sheldon!" she barked, interrupting him! Okay, that was 'angry', no need to look that one up.

"Do you want to do this or not?" She tried to hide the annoyance in her voice unsuccessfully.

He thought on it. He looked down at his crotch and realized that he was having the opposite problem from earlier in the evening. Unhappy in its latex wrapping, his erection was threatening to deflate. There was no time for internal wrangling. He grasped the nettle.

"Amy, will you lay down please?" He asked.

She was still scowling slightly but reclined on the sofa never the less. He leaned over her and then crawled up her body, maneuvering till they were face to face, lining up their hips as she placed her hands on his arms and he supported his weight with his elbows. He lowered his body gently, positioning himself between her thighs, marveling at the heat the human body generated. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and once again, a look flashed across her face only to be instantly masked. He still didn't catch it; was it fear?

Although a little confused now, he was nothing if not tenacious. Remaining resolute, he pushed himself gently against her, and met resistance.

"Aren't you going to kiss me?" She asked, somewhat surprised.

He considered this. "No, it's too distracting and I need to concentrate." He decided.

She didn't look best pleased with this reply and he puzzled, not for the first time, over the enigma that was the fairer sex. In his experience, finally getting what you wanted usually produced a rather more euphoric response than hers!

He pushed against her again, this time with a little more force, still with no success.

"I had no idea the hymen was so resilient?" he complained.

She sighed, "Sheldon, after 30 years, whatever is left of my hymen is not going to put up much of a fight. That's my perineum!"

"Oh!" He didn't quite know how to respond to that.

"Stay there." She ordered as she shuffled her hips around beneath him. He felt himself come into contact with soft flesh, blissfully hot and slick, cushioning him as she bent her legs up around him, cradling his sides. He wondered if she could hear his heart pounding in anticipation as it hammered in his ears. She fixed him with an intent look, licked her lips and swallowed nervously, before instructing, "Try now."

He pushed, there was some weak initial opposition but then, all of a rush, he slipped inside her.

She shrieked, a shrill, sharp cry of pain, and gripped him with her arms and thighs so tightly that the air was knocked out of him.

"Don't move, don't move!" She cried. His heart rate doubled in fear as he lay with his face in her hair. What was happening?

"Amy, what shall I do?" He beseeched.

"Just stay still," she whispered, her voice a little calmer, "please, don't move."

She clamped him to her body, her chest heaving against him fretfully. He froze and remained static, his senses befuddled by the paradoxical sensations of Amy's rigid, vice-like grip versus the novel caressing softness below.

They lay still, conjoined, their bodies adjusting to this phenomenon for what seemed like a long time. Gradually her grip on him started to loosen and, little by little, she relaxed her legs about him and her breathing became less ragged. His heartbeat quietened as he breathed her unique inimitable scent. Then, slowly and gently, she started to move.

She held his hips to still them, and cautiously gyrated her pelvis against his. The sensation sent a wave of desire through his body as the movement stirred him. He felt a tremble start in the small of his back and stifled a sound in his throat. She pushed against him, a little harder this time and somehow he resisted the urge to push back, to surrender to his appetite. As she ground against him again, harder still, his craving intensified, became unbearable, and he could no longer remain immobile.

"Amy, I need to thrust!" He exclaimed.

"Okay." She allowed breathlessly, and she relaxed her hold on him.

He drove his hips against her, the sensation leaving him gasping as his body started to tremble with pleasure. As he thrust again he was overtaken by such sublime ecstasy that he began to lose control of his muscles. His orgasm transcended his groin and overtook his being, leaving him awash in a pool of shuddering bliss. A guttural, animalistic groan heaved out of his pulsating body as he collapsed on her, his bones molten.

They lay in a sweaty tangle for a long moment while he tried to regain his composure. Eventually, the worry that he'd crushed her like a bug pushed him up. Shifting his weight off her, their faces close, he asked, "Are you alright?" with genuine concern.

"I'm fine," she smiled in a rather stunned way, "I'm a little bit sore, but I'll survive."

He lifted himself away from her body. The condom dangled from him in such a revolting manner that it required his immediate attention.

"Excuse me a moment." He apologized. He pulled his t-shirt down over the front of his trousers and backed off of the sofa, then walked quickly, resisting the urge to run, to the bathroom.

Once inside, he pulled the repulsive thing off with his thumb and forefinger, wrapped it in toilet paper and flushed it away with a shudder of disgust. He didn't want to touch his underpants or trousers before washing his hands so stood at the sink still unzipped. Even then, with clean hands, he still felt grimy. Unwilling to return to her in this disgusting, clammy state, he switched on the shower, peeled away his tacky clothes and placed them in the laundry basket.

The warm water felt sublime on his skin, he squeezed his Star Wars shower gel into his body-puff and began to wash, reflecting on his sexual prowess with pride. He'd always had a nagging fear that he would never achieve the level of intimacy that Amy desired, and now, with that doubt dispelled he felt exuberant! He launched into a chorus of the Spiderman theme-tune as he rubbed shampoo into his hair. He had just finished rinsing when he heard the toilet seat go down. He peeped around the shower curtain to see Amy, still naked from the waist down, urinating. He jerked the curtain shut; he had truly fallen down the rabbit hole!

He heard the flush, then the sink tap turned on and he screamed with shock as the water suddenly turned freezing cold.

"I can't believe you just left me out there!" She shouted through the curtain, her voice a mixture of hurt and anger.

He was confused. He'd asked if she was okay, and he'd said 'excuse me', what was her problem? He shook his head; he'd never understand women.

"Did you want the shower first?" He tried to guess.

"No, Sheldon, that's not it!" There was a pause. "Actually, I do need to freshen up, so get a move on in there!"

He poked his head back round the curtain, "Will you pass me my towel please?" He felt rather odd about her seeing him naked, so stuck his arm out so she could hand it over. She shook her head in an exasperated way and passed it to him. He wrapped it round and stepped out, leaving the shower running for her.

She had removed her shirt and under-vest and was unhooking her bra. It was of the same frivolous design as her knickers and pushed her breasts together so they looked like a pair of buttocks, it looked better on the floor in his opinion. Then she removed her watch and glasses and placed them on the shelf over the sink, before tucking her hair into Leonard's shower cap and pulling the curtain back. He looked at her fascinating back dimples as she stepped in and noted that her backside was mottled and slightly pinker than the rest of her skin, he liked that.

"Do you have a towel that I can use?" She asked. He could hear the water pattering on her skin, and felt an urge to have a look.

"I'll fetch one, hang on." He padded to the linen cupboard and selected one of the towels with 'his' on that she'd purchased recently (she'd taken the 'hers' ones back home, to 'hers').

"It's on the rail." He shouted through the steam as he left it.

"Do you have an old t-shirt that I can borrow till Saturday?" She called back.

That was strange question. "I don't have 'old' t-shirts." He replied. "I throw clothes away when they're past their best."

She poked her head out and rephrased the question. "Sheldon, do you have a t-shirt that I can borrow to go home in tonight and return to you on Saturday?"

"Why Saturday?" He asked, although he knew the answer.

"Because Raj is driving you home tomorrow. I'm going to the Salsa Night with Penny and Bernadette, remember?" She poked her head back in.

Yes, he did remember. "I'll get one." He called as he walked to his room.

Did he remember? Honestly! He knew the schedule for who was driving him to and from work, what they were eating and where they were socializing, right up to Leonard's return to duty next month. However, that didn't stop him feeling sulky. He thought of the Lotharios at the Salsa Club thrusting their hips at Amy as he rigorously rubbed his hair dry, and felt the bile rising in his throat. He opened his pajama drawer and reveled in the calming presence of its order and organization; it settled his nerves.

He selected his Thursday pajamas and slipped them on. While he buttoned them, he calculated which t-shirt he could lend Amy without disrupting his routine. Factoring in laundry night on Saturday, he selected his Flash t-shirt, and had just removed it from the drawer when she entered his room wrapped in the towel. She was wearing just her watch and glasses and her hair was wet underneath, that shower cap was clearly as effective as the condom he'd just flushed. She had collected her skirt from the living room and she laid this on the bed.

"Is that for me?" She indicated the shirt in his hand and he offered it to her. She was partially dry already and only gave herself a quick frisking with the towel before she dropped it on top of his one on the floor. As she pulled the t-shirt over her head, her breasts swung slightly and he felt a lazy twinge in his loins. Surely not, his testosterone levels couldn't have replenished that quickly, he distracted himself with the towels, scooping them up and taking them to the laundry basket.

When he returned, her skirt was on and she was sitting on the bed waiting for him, looking a little more cheerful.

"On Saturday, if you like, I can bring my pajamas and toothbrush and stay over." She offered.

"I'll have to put the sheets back on Leonard's bed." He thought out loud.

"No, I meant stay here." She patted his bed. "With you. In your bed!" She spelled it out.

"You'll be a bit cramped, I sleep in the middle." He explained.

She fixed him with a perplexed look and seemed just about to say something, but instead simply shook her head and stood up.

"Don't worry, it doesn't matter." She said casually and she walked past him to the living room.

She ejected the DVD from the player, placing it carefully in its box. She gathered her things together; her clothes from the bathroom already folded and placed on the table with the rest. He fetched her a carrier bag and she placed her clothing in as he held it. They both looked down at the crumpled cardigan on the sofa, the last item of clothing to go in. There was a strange energy in the air between them; it felt almost tangible. She picked the cardigan up, folded it and placed it in the bag, brushing his hand as she did so and raising little goose bumps on his arm. They looked into each others eyes for what seemed like a long time, he felt an electric crackle, a gravitational attraction that made him discomforted. She broke their gaze, averting her eyes to look down beside the couch.

"Socks!" she said suddenly.

There was a flicker in his groin, had he misheard? "Socks?" He repeated accentuating the 'O'.

"I need to borrow some socks too." She indicated to her shoes lined up neatly next to his by sofa.

"Right, socks." He repeated and he turned and rushed to his room, grabbing the first pair that came to hand (sock rotation schedule be damned) before returning.

She eyed the socks skeptically, they were brown with a yellow and green diamond pattern, but she sat down and put them on nevertheless. They stopped halfway up her calves and looked preposterous. She slipped her brogues on, then stood and picked up the DVD that was next to the packet of condoms.

"Shall I take these away with me?" She nodded toward the condoms.

"No, leave them here," he replied, then added, "we might need them Saturday." He felt an embarrassed flush burn his skin.

He noticed her quick, shy smile and the little blush in her cheeks as she stepped up to him and, on tiptoe, kissed him lightly on the lips. It made his insides quiver a little, like butterflies fluttering in his chest. She picked up her handbag and the carrier bag as she walked past the sofa and then made her way to the front door.

As he watched her walk away, he felt suddenly bereft.

She opened the door, walked through, turned and said "Goodnight Sheldon" as she always did.

"Amy." He called after her. She stopped, her hand on the door handle and looked back at him.

"Bring your pajamas this Saturday, I really would like you to stay over." He smiled bashfully, feeling his ears burn with embarrassment.

"Okay then." Her face cracked into a jubilant, crooked smile and, as she stood there in that absurd outfit, his t-shirt hanging loose to her knees, coupled with his most garish socks, he realized that she had never looked more beautiful.

"Goodnight then Sheldon."

"Goodnight Amy."

She closed the door.


	5. CH 5 : THE EPILOGUE ADDENDUM

The Correlation Coefficient Experiment

CHAPTER 5 : THE EPILOGUE ADDENDUM

Was he awake or was he dreaming he was awake? As consciousness slowly returned, so the nausea kicked in. His head was banging as he opened his eyes and surveyed the carnage of the night before. Shoes and clothing were scattered about his room as if someone had clobbered a laundry piñata. His trousers, with one leg inside out, lay crumpled next to Amy's skirt and one of her shoes. He tried to turn his head to locate the other shoe but the thumping at the front of his skull stopped him.

As he was hanging off the side of the bed anyway, it didn't take too much effort to roll off and onto the floor in a heap. He lay there, naked and dazed, for a moment before pushing himself up on all fours. From here he had a clear view across the bed where Amy lay on her back, nude, spread-eagled and snoring slightly. His duvet lay creased on the floor at the foot of the bed and he crawled to it and collapsed, seeking comfort in its cooling succor. His stomach churned queasily and acrid bile rose to his throat, replacing the strange taste of honey and lemon throat lozenges that lingered, despite his having no memory of having them. He remembered the first two tequila slammers though; it was all a little hazy beyond that. However, what he was certain of now, was that he was going to vomit and needed to get to the bathroom without delay.

He crawled to the door and stopped, he could hear the voices of Penny and Leonard at the breakfast bar. Fortunately, his dressing gown was hanging on the back of the door and he used it to hoist himself to his feet, before struggling into it. He supported himself on the door-frame as beads of sweat began to pool on his forehead, then opened the door a crack and feed himself through. He pulled it to and leaned back against the door, momentarily disorientated, before making his unsteady passage to the bathroom.

In this fragile state, he fell to his knees at the toilet as if seeking atonement from some hallowed deity. He gagged and heaved as the transgressions of the night before returned to haunt him. He clutched the toilet seat shuddering and gasping for breath and vomited repeatedly until, devoid of stomach content and energy, he lay on the floor quaking, his core contracting and pushing pungent acid into his throat.

"You okay there buddy?" Leonard's voice was laced with concern as he stood in the doorway over him.

"I'm dying!" He croaked. "Call 911!" Something caught in his throat as he spoke.

Leonard squatted next to him, trying to conceal his underlying disgust, but unable to stop his nose wrinkling.

He started to choke and retch on whatever was stuck on the base of his tongue and, helpfully, Leonard handed him a wad of toilet paper, which he spat into. There was a stunned silence as they viewed the contents, a solitary, spittle coated, pubic hair.

Leonard rose and patted his shoulder; "I'll get you some water and painkillers." He called as he left the bathroom.

He struggled upright and hauled himself up with the toilet seat. Avoiding looking into the pan, he threw the toilet paper in, put the lid down and flushed. He stood, dizzy and faint, supporting himself on the cistern as he got his bearings back before setting off for the sink to wash his hands.

He had a desperate need for a shower but felt too weak, so settled for splashing his face with cold water. Catching his haggard reflection in the mirror, he saw a flash of his father in his own features. His skin was pallid and sallow and he looked, as MeeMaw would say, like he'd been to Hell in a hand wagon.

Leonard's reflection appeared in the mirror, standing in the doorway with the promised water and a packet of paracetamol, looking annoyingly perky for someone who was not only jet-lagged but had, to his knowledge, matched his own tequila intake.

"You're looking remarkably sprightly, all things considered." He sulked, his throat like sandpaper.

Leonard shrugged, "I've been nauseous for the best part of four months, I guess I've become acclimatized."

Penny appeared behind him. "How you doing Sweetie?" She asked sympathetically enough but her face was definitely twitching with humor.

"I've felt better, thank you Penny." He watched as she chewed the inside of her lips trying to keep a straight face.

"Sheldon, where's my shoe?" Amy called through the wall.

"If you'll excuse me?" He lurched toward them shakily, trying to retain some dignity, taking the pills and water from Leonard with a "Thank you" but spilling most of it on the way to his room.

Amy was dressed in last night's outfit, and was crouching, looking under the bed when he entered. She made a groaning sound as she stretched to retrieve her shoe and when she sat on the bed he noticed that she looked a little green around the gills herself, her skin waxy with a sheen of perspiration on her top lip. She slipped her shoe on and stood. He noticed that she'd straightened the room a little, his clothes were in a neat pile and his duvet was back in place.

"I'm going home now to throw up and have a bath!" She announced succinctly.

"Aren't you staying take care of me?" He questioned. "I've been sick, we have a clause!'

"We also have a sub-clause that I'm enforcing right now. Currently my own physical needs supersede my pastoral duty to you."

She walked towards him. "Do you want me to come back tonight?"

"It's Saturday. You stay over on Saturday!" He replied a little non-plussed.

"I thought you might have plans with Leonard?" She explained.

"But it's Saturday!" He shook his head, unable to understand her reasoning, and winced as his brain rattled against his cranium.

"I'll see you at seven then." She kissed his cheek as she passed him.

He waited until she was out of sight, then wiped it off with the sleeve of his dressing gown, she hadn't brushed her teeth.

He heard snippets of her leave-taking with Leonard and Penny but paid no heed. The call of his bed was irresistible and, with as much strength as he could muster, he whipped the duvet back. The desecration of his sheet was abhorrent and he recoiled in shock. There wasn't an inch of it that was habitable such was the smearing and staining. He wrenched the duvet back over to conceal the horror and stood quavering at the bedside. He popped out two paracetamol and, taking a swig from the glass, forced his raw throat to swallow the pills before placing what remained of the water on his bedside table. He dithered for just a moment more before the tremors that racked his body forced him to lie down atop the duvet. Here he rolled into the recovery position and trembled in his dressing gown, before falling into a fitful, fever wracked sleep.

He awoke alone in the apartment in the late afternoon, his mouth acerbic and his mind woozy, but thankfully able to function again, albeit in safe mode. He took himself to the bathroom and brushed his teeth before gargling with mouthwash, then he returned to face his fouled sheets. After stripping them from the bed, reluctant to pick them up, he dragged them, feeling a little like Charlie Brown's Linus (sans thumb sucking), to his laundry basket. His clothes were presorted in preparation and he was irritated that he would need to do an extra wash to accommodate them, it knocked his routine out; Wednesday was new linen night!

He placed his dressing gown on top of the dirty sheets and proceeded to the shower, exulting in the hot streams as they washed away the toilet and bed germs. After that, he felt well enough to dress himself and to attempt some buttered toast, chased down with tea and more paracetomol.

His prevening schedule was so awry now that, after he had re-dressed the bed, there was no point trying to make any semblance of his usual Saturday routine. He watched TV instead, feeling thoroughly sorry for himself in his delicate state, responding to Leonard's text re. Chinese Takeout with a request for a simple chicken chow-mein, which he figured was all he'd be able to stomach. He glowered at Leonard's text on his phone, moping when he realized that, since he had met him at the airport yesterday, they had spent no time alone. Actually, that wasn't quite true; there'd been a rather awkward encounter when he'd returned from Penny's to get something from his suitcase, the memory made him blush violently. Not to mention the embarrassment at the airport!

Not realizing quite how much he'd missed his friend, when Leonard shuffled into the Arrivals Lounge, scruffy and exhausted, he'd run at him and clasped him in a long, fierce hug, releasing him only when Penny punched him brutally hard on the arm. She'd attached herself to Leonard like a limpet almost knocking him off his feet. Since then, Leonard and Penny had been enmeshed to the exclusion of everyone else. He had more or less much blanked Amy, Raj, Howard and Bernadette at their 'Welcome Home' soiree for him last night, crying off early with jet lag and disappearing to Penny's apartment. He brooded on how selfish Penny was being; and the tequila slammers had been her idea too!

In fact, the more he dwelt on it, the more he realized how mad he was at Leonard as well. Although he had kept him up to speed via Skype, there were things he needed to discuss with him in person, questions that needed answering, surely Leonard must realize this! He had been looking forward to his return, pleased to be rid of the sub-standard services of Penny, Raj and Howard. He'd even taken the day off to come and greet him, and for what? Their one encounter alone had left them both squirming with toe-curling embarrassment.

Having now embarked on a sexual relationship with Amy, he felt that certain perimeters needed to be in place for their mutual interest. To this end they had devised a traffic light system relating to their experimentation, along with a Venn Chart to reflect their personal preferences. There were certain things that he was adamant would remain in red ad infinitum, however, the green section was growing all the time and he had graduated the orange section from dark to light for ease of use. So, it was with some surprise that he found himself moving the Kama Sutra 'Congress of a Cow' Position (he refused to refer to it as the crude, doggy-style) straight from red to green.

He'd been dismissive of this position, initially refusing point blank to hump like a zoo animal. However, in the flesh, he found the lure of her exposed back and shoulders to be irresistible. He questioned the fortuity that this position turned out to be the one that finally 'hit the mark' for Amy and, after deliberation, had to concede that perhaps Nature knew a thing or two about baser needs after all. He amended their charts, able to deceive himself that its inclusion in the interlocking centre of their Venn Diagram appeased Amy's appetite to a much greater degree than his own.

He had been in the middle of updating this section of their Relationship Agreement when another natural instinct kicked in. When he returned from urinating, Leonard was hovering close to his laptop, seemingly fascinated by an imaginary something on the floor and rubbing his ear in a supposedly nonchalant way. He couldn't look him in the eye and mumbled something incoherent about his inhaler before returning to Penny's as red as a beet.

Awash with such excruciating embarrassment, it was surprising that he didn't have to prise his toenails from the balls of his feet. More than that, he felt utterly violated by Leonard's intrusion. This chart was not his business and he shouldn't have looked! Every entry in the intertwined circles represented a personal moment between himself and Amy. He envisioned them now, associating each journal to its discovery, documenting the journey from the arrhythmic jigging of the first Saturday night spent in his bed to what had transpired between them yesterday night. Right now he was at a loss as to how last night's events could be accurately recorded, as Amy had seemed equally inebriated. Throughout the day, recollections had been cropping up like painful little thuds to his tequila soaked brain; his usually unfailing memory jolting as X-rated vignettes popped into his mind. They had certainly ventured into the red zone last night! For the first time, he was very grateful that she'd started using the contraceptive pill.

Although no fan of the condom, it did provide the last barrier against contamination that his Mysophobia craved, but she had been insistent, despite his profuse objections. She stared him down when his hand reached for the box in the drawer, and he was surprised to find his pusillanimity trumped his phobia. This charade had died down recently and it was becoming easier not to crave the comfort of the prophylactics. He knew he was fortunate that Amy understood his need to shower immediately after any sexual contact, and didn't take it personally. Besides, her amusing waddle to the bathroom with a wedge of tissue between her legs was an unexpected boon. It amused him to no end, her gait reminded him of the Penguin from Batman which he found strangely endearing.

This chain of thought was broken by the key turning in the lock and Leonard entered, arms loaded with Chinese food, followed closely by Penny and Amy calling out their salutations. It occurred to him that whenever he was under the weather his friends seemed to move in herds, unwilling to be separated. He filed this observation away to ponder at a later date and checked his watch; 7pm, at least something was running to order today!

He switched the TV to standby as Leonard unpacked the food, placing his carton in front of him. In the kitchen, Amy was selecting cutlery and Penny the condiments, which she placed in the middle of the table. Naturally, she'd bought the wrong mustard. He shot her a look before standing to correct her error. He knew from bitter experience the result of asking her to fix her own mistakes; it had been a long four months.

He groaned as he rose, his muscles protesting, and took the mustard back. Leonard wandered over to the fridge and began selecting drinks, momentarily blocking his way. He looked his friend over, he looked fatigued and a little discombobulated.

"How is it that you look worse than you did 24 hours ago?" He mused.

Leonard gave a wry smile. "You know how it is." He shrugged. Then he had a moment of revelation and his face lit up. "How about that! You do know how it is!" He punched him lightly on the arm.

He winced, rubbed his arm and attempted to maneuver around him but Leonard placed his hand out, stymieing him.

"We really do need to catch up, have you got any plans for tomorrow night?" He rested his hand on his arm.

Resisting the urge to bat his hand off, he shook his head. "No, I left the weekend open."

This admittance made him feel exposed somehow, it was at odds with his impervious nature and he felt the embarrassment of the over-long hug at the airport creeping back.

"Okay, just you and me then. Hey, I missed you Buddy!" Leonard suddenly hugged him.

With his reactions dulled by the excesses of the night before, Leonard was too quick to dodge, and he had no choice but to rigidly suffer the embrace till he slapped his back and released him. He was taken right back to the beginning of his and Amy's program and sincerely hoped that this hugging was not going to become a regular occurrence. He was keenly aware that he was the instigator of this particular new problem and hoped it petered out before an awkward conversation had to be had.

He gave what he imagined to be a friendly smile and followed Leonard back to the sofa and the sanctuary of his spot, placing the mustard on the table. In truth he had no appetite for it, but it just needed to be there. He sat next to Amy and proceeded to unpack his noodles. He had an uncomfortable feeling in his gut that was not entirely due to the gastro-intestinal discomfort of his hangover. Everything just seemed a bit awry. He had felt it the night before too. In fact it had been the catalyst to his decision to join in with the tequila slammers.

He ate in silence, half listening to the girls inane twittering before suddenly becoming aware of the little barbs Penny was dropping into the conversation.

"Why was it obvious that Amy and myself 'enjoyed ourselves last night' Penny?" He challenged.

Penny's face started twitching, and Leonard looked away and down at the floor.

She composed herself and replied in a sugarcoated voice, "Honey, as you've mentioned many, many times over the years, these apartment walls are rather thin!" She finished with a smirk.

"I see," he placed his half-eaten dinner back on the table and wracked his brain for a suitably poisonous retort, but came up blank. "If you'll excuse me, I have laundry to do."

He hauled his aching body from the sofa and collected his laundry, struggling with the extra load of bed linen as he passed them on his way to the door.

"Shall I come help you?" Amy called after him, she was staring at her watch with a puzzled expression, but he declined her offer with a shake of his head and a curt, "No, thank you!"

The laundry room exuded tranquility and his equanimity gradually returned as he worked through the remainder of his Saturday night routine. All was right with the world here, and he worked through on autopilot, till two and a half hours later, he had three neatly folded piles of fresh laundry and an air of serenity.

Aside from the murmur of the TV, it was quiet in the apartment when he returned. Amy sat alone, facing the screen, she looked up when he entered then reached for the remote. The TV clicked off with a quiet pop.

"Are those mine?" She stood and reached for her pajamas, which he had placed on the top of the basket.

He followed her to his bedroom and began to load his drawers as she stripped out of her clothes behind him. He placed his freshly clean pajamas in sequential order, the fact that the Friday ones remained unused bothered him much more than he knew it should. He selected his Saturday ones, and removed his clothes and shoes before slipping them on. Amy had folded her clothes neatly and placed them in the overnight bag next to the bed, she walked past him to the bathroom.

He heard the tap turn on briefly and the sound of her brushing her teeth through the wall. He picked up his clothes and set off for the bathroom, placing them in the now empty laundry basket and waiting his turn at the sink. He brushed while Amy gargled with the mouthwash. They co-ordinated their spitting with a series of mumbles and hand motions, then Amy returned to the bedroom while he rinsed his mouth. She was in bed when he returned.

"What time did they leave?" He looked in the direction of Penny's apartment as he leaned on the door-frame.

"Not long before you came back." She peeked up from the covers, squinting without her glasses, before sitting up. "You know, you really had a sense of humor failure tonight Sheldon. Penny was just being playful."

"Oh, of course you're going to defend her!" He declared dismissively.

Amy shrugged. "Seriously though, she was just making a joke, and, you know, she has a point, in flagrante you do sound rather like you're summoning the Orcs!" She chuckled to herself.

He bristled angrily at her criticism and searched his brain for a suitable put-down; he found one. "Well Amy, when you climax you rise up like a cadaver expelling gas in a mortuary!"

Amy blinked, considered this a while, before replying, "Sheldon, if I wasn't still in a state of disbelief that you would even know that, my feelings might be hurt. However, I'm just about beat after last night and I need to sleep, are you coming to bed?" She lay back down.

He needed to do his routine checks first. He circumnavigated the apartment, ticking things off in his mind. He checked the lock on the door but, to his annoyance, couldn't slide the deadbolts over in case Leonard returned; another example of his thoughtlessness! He checked the oven and hob, touching the switches and knobs in his usual sequence (and then, as ever, had to return to check that touching them hadn't accidentally turned them on) before he was ready to return to his bedroom. He walked round to the right side and climbed in.

She was lying with her back to him. He regretted the cadaver insult already and wished he could take it back. Once under the covers, he shuffled over, wrapping his arm around her and pushing his body against hers. He noticed she'd changed her shampoo, she smelt slightly different; nice, fresh and clean.

She placed her hand on his forearm muttering "I don't want to have sex tonight, I'm exhausted."

"I'm done in too." He whispered into her hair.

She removed her hand from his arm to allow him to move away but he remained spooning her, inhaling her scent and, after a moment or two, she realized he wasn't withdrawing and replaced her hand.

"Amy?" He murmured into the back of her head.

"Yes." She replied sleepily, making no effort to turn in his direction.

"Leonard being back feels weird, like he's a stranger." He confided.

"It'll pass." She comforted, squeezing his arm.

"What if it doesn't?" He worried.

"It will," she insisted, continuing before he could interrupt, and pre-empting his next question, "and if it doesn't, then you've got me haven't you?"

He was surprised at how reassuring he found that.

"Amy?" He continued.

"Mmmmm?" She responded wearily.

"I'm sorry for what I said about the cadaver thing." He said sincerely.

"Okay, apology accepted. Now go to sleep, please!" She yawned.

It had been a strange and unsettling Saturday. Their Relationship Agreement decreed that, on Saturday, Amy stayed over and, her menstrual cycle allowing, they had sexual intercourse. This was the first time that they had shared his bed platonically and, although different, he had to admit that he found the closeness of her warm body comforting. He felt her relax into a steady rhythm of breathing, its pattern lulled him to sleep.

The sound of Amy clattering in the kitchen woke him in the morning. He rubbed his face as he looked at his alarm. He'd overslept! That never happened. Why hadn't she woken him?

He took himself to the bathroom to urinate and brush his teeth. Amy had clearly been here some time before and his toothbrush looked forlorn, all alone in its holder (hers presumably already packed away in her overnight bag).

As he made his way to the breakfast bar, he glanced through the open door of Leonard's room. Leonard's bed remained pristine and unused, the sheets as smooth as the day he'd dressed it for him in anticipation of his return. As witness to the action that Leonard's mattress had seen over the years, it had taken some gumption on his part to do this favor for his friend, but his actions had not even been acknowledged.

"Still over at Penny's eh?" He mocked, more to himself than anyone.

Amy was sitting on her side of the counter in just her dressing gown; she appeared to be naked beneath. She had prepared English Breakfast Tea and she poured him a cup as he approached. She noted his expression and, without even so much as a 'Good Morning', leapt straight to Leonard and Penny's defense.

"Oh, get over it! They're in love, of course they want to spend all their time together!" She shook her head at him in an exasperated way.

"In love!" He snorted derisively. "That's no excuse! We make time for other people Amy!"

She was in the middle of adding the milk but stopped suddenly, after just a splash, and stared wide-eyed at him, the milk jug suspended above his cup.

"Are you saying we're comparable Sheldon? That we're in love?" She stammered as she reiterated, "That you love me?"

He stared at her incredulously. "Well, obviously!" He replied dumbfounded. "What other conclusion could you deduce from that statement?"

He gave her a flabbergasted look. Surely, it was bad enough that he was surrounded by idiots, without his girlfriend joining the throng. This was clearly conclusive proof that alcohol deadened your brain cells!

"I have more milk than that." He prompted her.

She added a splash more, then set down the jug and stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. Her eyes began to glisten and she blinked rapidly but otherwise remained motionless and speechless.

He became bored of being stared at and, as his tea was a good temperature, gulped it down. He was late for his shower and he didn't want another day off-schedule. Putting his cup and saucer in the dishwasher, he set off for the bathroom.

He had just lathered up when he heard her enter the bathroom. A few moments later and she pulled the curtain back and stepped in with him, nude aside from her shower hat.

"I haven't rinsed yet!' He protested, angry at her impatience.

"Oh, I've had my shower already this morning." She smiled innocently.

"Then, why…" He stumbled over how to put this question politely, and reined his rudeness back.

"I've come to fulfill my duty to our clause relating to your care when sick, returning the favor if you will." She put her hand out for him to hand her the body puff.

"Firstly, you're 24 hours too late! Secondly, you weren't even sick Amy!" He scowled at the memory of her deception.

She shrugged, "Let me make it up to you!"

She took the puff from his surprised hand and ran it over his chest, fixing him with her eyes as she did so. He stared back wordlessly; the sensation catching his breath.

"We have things to discuss don't we?" She asked as she ran the puff across his stomach.

"We do?" He questioned, more than a little distracted, his stomach muscles jumping at her touch.

"Don't we have something we need to move from red to green?" She ran the puff down towards his groin. He stopped her hand with his. He knew where this was going, what she was trying to get him to agree to!

"Congress of the Cow was an anomaly!" He stated resolutely and released her hand.

She withdrew the puff and looked down at it. She gave it an exploratory squeeze then reached past him to get more shower gel. As her body passed his, it brushed against him, smooth and slick under the warm rays of the shower. He had a clear view of her behind and felt a sudden jolt when he saw the faint contusion of a handprint on her buttock. Of all the things that had popped into his head yesterday, this recollection had been absent. However, it couldn't be what Amy what putting forward as he didn't have the audacity to place such a thing on their chart; even on red!

"Turn around." She ordered, and in his confusion he obeyed mutely.

He found himself somewhat bamboozled as she began to run the puff over his back, the abrasive sensation gratifying against his still tender skin.

"May I question why the male equivalent has worked its way up the orange gradient to green, and yet you staunchly maintain the inertia of its female counterpart on red despite attaining favorable results with its execution on Friday night?" She probed. "Frankly, it reeks of sexism!"

"Not so," he countered, "my refusal has nothing to do with any misogynistic agenda, but is a matter of simple topography. If ones mouth was supposed to be down there, then it wouldn't be so close to," he couldn't think of a polite term, so substituted with "the exit!" He turned to face her, ready to fight his corner.

"The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks" she paraphrased sardonically, looking down at his rather obvious arousal.

"Misquoting Shakespeare will not get that particular deviance moved to orange." He shook his head and continued, "It's not even contextually accurate. In Elizabethan England a 'protest' was an affirmation or avowal, not an objection." He tut-tutted at her in exasperation.

"I see!" She looked at him with brows knitted in deliberation.

She seemed to come to a conclusion as she threw the puff behind him, then suddenly reached up and, pulling his head towards hers with both hands, planted a kiss on his lips.

He was taken off guard, and she had to kiss him again before he had the wherewithal to join in. The shower beat down on them as their mouths moved together, her body was slippery and lithe against him as her tongue teased his. She began to speak between kisses.

"Well, Sheldon," she ran her hands down his back leaving a twitching trail of pleasure.

"It would seem," she cupped his buttocks with her hands.

"That rather ironically," she squeezed him and pulled him against her.

"My 'oral' discourse," she gyrated her pelvis against him.

"Has fallen short." She ran her hands up to his chest and pulled out of the embrace slightly.

"It seems that I have to support my case with a practical demonstration." She began to slide down his body onto her knees, her hands leaving a spasming trail of excitement from chest to groin. "Naturally, I'm hoping the correct application will arouse an empathetic neurological response."

He gasped as her mouth made contact with him and desperately grasped at the shower wall for support. His legs weakened as she continued with her carnal exposition.

"Okay, it can move to terracotta!" He garbled. His knees were buckling and his hand was slipping dangerously on the wet walls of the shower, unable to find leverage.

He was, once again, reminded of the prudence of the adhesive ducks!

THE END.


End file.
